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TANG LEWI LD 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS by 
HORTENSE CORA JACKSON 




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Indianapolis: THE HOLLENBECK 
PRESS ^ Nineteen Hundred and One 



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copyeight 1901 
By Hoetensk Cora Jackson 



IN MEMORY OF 
MY FATHER 



PREFATORY 

Fly away, my birdlings ! 

From out the home nest warm ; 
Try your wings, my fledghngs. 

In summer's sun and winter's storm. 

Fly away, my birdlings ! 

Far, far away from me ; 
Find a nest in other hearts 

And sing your songs so glad and free. 



CONTENTS 

Prefatory 5 

When I Wuz a Little Girl 9 

Easter Morning 11 

The Need of the Hour 15 

Tanglewild 17 

Summer's Night 18 

Grandmother's Story 20 

Similitude 29 

The Dying Year 30 

Bitter Sweet 32 

Injustice 34 

Aged Christians 36 

Hidden Jewels 38 

Baby at the Window 40 

After Clouds, Sunshine 42 

Better 44 

Dead to the World 46 

My Mother's Home 48 

Who ? 50 

A Starry Night 51 

Broken Confidence 53 

Church Bells 55 

Forgive and Be Forgiven 57 

My Old-fashioned Mother 59 

Where Is My Baby? 61 

St. Valentine's Day 63 

Once We Were Seven 64 

Heroes 67 

Could We But Know 68 

7 



CONTENTS 

The Bumble Bee 70 

A Prayer 71 

Thoughtful Men 73 

Sunset 77 

Why Should We Care? 78 

Old People's Day 79 

Friendship 81 

Moonlight Song 83 

Heart Treasures 84 

Contentment 85 

A Light in the Window 87 

Farewell 88 

Two Friends 89 

Flowers Everywhere , 93 

May 94 

Blossoms and Birds 96 

A Wise Bird 98 

Blackberry Blossoms 99 

Morning Glories loi 

The Birds 102 

Love and the Flowers 103 

June 104 

Down Where the Lilies Grow 105 

Maurice Thompson 109 

Memoriam (Mrs. Mattie Roberts) 1 1 1 

Dwight L. Moody 113 

Memorial of Levi Morton 116 

England's Queen 118 

Frances E. Willard 120 

Esther Barringer 123 



WHEN I WUZ A LITTLE GIRL 

Onct I WUZ a little girl, 

Wuzzent near as big as I am now ; 
I twisted my hair to make it curl 
'Til it got tangled and my head in a whirl, 

An' it wouldn't curl nohow. 

My grandma she used to say 

I beat any girl she ever saw 
To sing and whistle an' run an' play 
An' keep up a racket the livelong day — 

I made her think of an old buzz-saw. 

In grandpa's barn I used to play 

Hide an' seek in the big haymow. 
An' the swallows flew in an' out all day 
An' built their nests clear out of my way — 
I can a'most hear 'em twitter now. 

An' there wuz a well so cool and deep, 

The waterin' trough was a poplar log ; 
We drawed up the water where spiders sleep, 
With a hickory pole we called a sweep. 
An' onct I caught a big toad frog. 

9 



WHEN I WUZ A LITTLE GIRL 

An' grandpa's orchard down by the road, 
Jes' the purtiest place wuz ever seen ; 
Never could tell why, but I jes' knowed 
The biggest, juciest apples growed 

Down there, all yeller, an' red, an' green. 

There wuz the branch under the hill. 
Where I ust to fish with a crooked pin ; 

Me, an' Mollie, an' brother Will, 

All three of us fished an' fished until 
My head got dizzy an' I fell in. 

I jes' laughed, but I wanted to cry, 

Got a lump in my throat, can feel it yet ; 
Stayed out in the sun 'til I got dry — 
I'z afraid gran'ma would ask me why 
I'd got my new pink dress all wet. 

Wuz awful nice on a summer's day, 

Down there where the flags and cat-tails grew ; 
Wish I'z little again ; I'd play 
'Mong the lilies the same old way, 

An' wade the branch like I ust to do. 



10 



EASTER MORNING 

Morning- dawns on old Judea, 
With her hills and valleys fair ; 

But a sound of strife and clamor 
Falls upon the quiet air. 

Roman rule and Jewish hatred, 
Led by men of great renown ; 

Holding naught to them as sacred 
Save priestly robe and kingly crown. 

With their hearts of sin and darkness 
They for light must blindly grope, 

With no single ray of brightness 
Like the star of Israel's hope. 

Looked they for a kingly ruler, 
One of grand and royal birth, 

One whose rule of might, not honor, 
Should be felt throughout the earth. 

He who came so meek and lowly, 
Lived a life of peace and love, 

With God's spirit, pure and holy. 
Hovering o'er him like a dove, 
II 



EASTER MORNING 

Was to them a base deceiver, 
And the frenzied people cry, 

'He, the low and vile blasphemer. 
Shall no longer live, but die." 

Morning dawns on old Judea, 
With her hills and valleys fair, 

But a sound of voices weeping 
Breaks upon the summer air. 

They who trusted, long believing 
Israel's promised king had come, 

Lift their hearts in holy grieving 
For his sad and unjust doom. 

See them humbled, broken-hearted. 
They who trusted in His word, 

When by violence they were parted, 
They believed Him still their Lord. 

In the sepulcher He's sleeping 

With Death's seal upon His brow, 

And His followers cry, weeping, 
"Who will save Judea now?" 

See a band of faithful women, 
With their myrrh and spices come 

To proclaim their faith in Jesus 
And anoint the Savior's tomb. 
12 



EASTER MORNING 

Lo! a time of joy awaits them, 

And their souls are filled with light, 

For a scene of wondrous glory 
Breaks upon their raptured sight. 

For the bright and shining angel 
Tells them Christ is not asleep. 

Bids them haste to tell the story, 
Dry their tears, nor longer weep. 

Filled with joy, and love, and wonder, 
Haste they back, no longer weak, 

For the Savior tells sweet Mary 
"I am He for whom ye seek." 

Go and tell my waiting brethren 
Ye have seen the Lord to-day ; 

Bid them doubt no more, believing 
This is Resurrection Day. 

Sunlight falls on old Judea, 
With her hills and valleys fair ; 

Songs of love, and joy, and praises, 
Break upon the balmy air. 

Jesus Christ, the Lord and Savior, 
Has redeemed the world from sin. 

Broke the seal of Death's dark portal. 
Nevermore to enter in. 

13 



EASTER MORNING 

Lift your hearts, ye men and angels ; 

Let the swelHng anthem ring, 
For the grave has lost its victory, 

Death for us shall have no sting. 

'Glory be to God the Highest, 

For our King, though lowly born. 

Conquered Death and rose triumphant 
On that glorious Easter morn." 



14 



THE NEED OF THE HOUR 

O Liberty, bow down thy head 

And weep for very shame ; 
A shadow falls upon our land, 

A curse upon thy name. 
The dastard's hand has struck the blow 

'Gainst man, and home, and state. 
Our stricken hearts are numb with woe. 

Our foes are filled with hate. 

This is no longer Freedom's land, 

With peace and quiet blent ; 
Old Glory's folds are trampled down 

And Freedom's banner rent. 
Our forefathers fought, and bled, and died. 

That this fair land might be 
A refuge for the sore oppressed, 

The land of Liberty ; 
But alien feet now press our shores. 

Whilst those from justice fled 
Are plotting treason 'gainst our flag 

And smite our rulers dead. 

Arouse, O fathers, from your sleep, 

O brothers, brave and strong. 
Go forth to battle for the rights 

That to our homes belong ; 

15 



THE NEED OF THE HOUR 

Go close our ports 'gainst those who come 

As come the vile and low, 
Let every heart and home be barred 

Against the treacherous foe. 

O wife and mother, in your home, 

With sons and daughters fair, 
There's work for hand, and heart, and brain, 

There's need of earnest prayer. 
A foe lurks by your own hearthstone, 

He comes in pleasure's guise ; 
He fain would lure your loved ones on 

To where Sin's waters rise. 
God's laws or man's, and he who dares 

Not in these laws abide 
A traitor proves to home and state. 

Anarchy by his side. 



i6 



TANGLEWILD 

Fair Tanglewild ! thou well-remembered spot, 

Where dwelt the poet, with his books and flowers, 
Beneath thy roof, thou rose-embowered cot. 

He passed away his quiet, busy hours ; 
His was the poet's soul, the artist's eye. 

That saw in Nature's grand kaleidoscope 
Rare beauties such as none but he descry, 

For which the world at large must blindly grope. 

fair, sweet Tanglewild, to me so dear, 
Methinks I see thee as I saw thee last ; 

1 hear the voice of Dion calling near 

In tones of love as in the happy past ; 
Thou art to me a sacred dwelling-place ; 

Upon thy threshold once again I stand. 
In that dear presence, meeting face to face, 

I feel the pressure of a kindly hand. 

But lo ! I wake as from a troubled dream, 

A stranger's face will greet me at the door. 
The tide of years rolls backward and I seem 

To realize that Dion is no more. 
O Tanglewild, beneath a western sky. 

Where sunlight falls from out a golden sea. 
To thy mute walls I lift my yearning cry, 

Thou art lost forever more to me. 

17 



SUMMER'S NIGHT 

I sit by the open window, 

In the twiHght soft and gray, 

And see the evening shadows 
Shut out the light of day. 

The god of day has wandered 
Beyond my sight so dim, 

Leaving only a tinge of glory 
On the dark horizon's rim. 

With a fleecy cloud for a pillow, 
He the curtain of night has drawn 

Around his couch to slumber 
Till the time of another dawn. 

The moon rises slow and stately, 
With a pale and silvery light, 

And Venus vies in splendor 

With the glorious Queen of night. 

The winds have gone to slumber 
With a low and plaintive sigh, 

And the stars come out in number. 
Like sentinels in the sky. 
i8 



SUMMER S NIGHT 

The groves, and hills, and valleys. 
Are wrapped in slumber deep, 

While over grass and flowers 
The pearly dew-drops weep. 

Among the flowery meadows, 
Soothed by their scented balm. 

The quiet herds are resting 
'Neath night-time's holy calm. 

Beside their mates in dreaming 
The nightingale and dove. 

At rest, with folded pinions, 

Have ceased their songs of love. 

I sit and watch the shadows 
With patient, wakeful eye, 

Until Day flings his banner 
Athwart the eastern sky. 

I wake as one from dreaming 
And hear all Nature chime, 

Another night is numbered " 
Among the sands of Time. 



19 



GRANDMOTHER'S STORY 

Beside a wide old-fashioned hearth, 
Where burning embers glow, 

And where the ruddy firelight gleams 
And shadows come and go. 

With lazy smoke wreaths curling up 
From andirons straight and tall. 

And shadows playing hide-and-seek 
Like goblins on the wall. 

The house cat lies beside the hearth 

And softly purs away, 
And in her dreaming hunts again 

And finds her helpless prey. 

The watch dog bays the icy moon ; 

With sense alert he knows 
A difference 'twixt the ones who come. 

And welcomes friends, not foes. 

Securely housed 'neath shelter warm 
The flocks and herds are kept, 

To wander through the wind and storm. 
Not one stray lamb is left. 

Indoors the children romp and play, 

With merry, noisy din. 
With joyous laugh and song of mirth 

Each strives the game to win. 
20 



GRANDMOTHER S STORY 

Beside the cozy, warm hearthstone, 

Where glowing embers He, 
With lazy smoke wreaths curling up 

Towards the wintry sky. 

The happy children gather there, 
With faces bright and fair, 

Each tries to find the nearest place 
Beside the old arm-chair. 

Grandmother sits and rocks away. 

And knitting-needles ply ; 
Meanwhile the clock upon the shelf 

Tells how the moments fly. 

With kindly smile on gentle face, 

No longer young, yet fair. 
And brow adorned by simple grace 

And bands of soft gray hair. 

Three score years and ten have gone, 
And yet her heart is young ; 

She feels the truth of holy words, 
Her youthful lips have sung. 

'Tell us a story, Grandmother," 

The childish voices chime, 
'When this fair land of ours was young. 

And of ye olden time." 

21 



GRANDMOTHER S STORY 

"Come, listen, then, and I will tell 
A story true, but sad. 
How grief came to my father's home 
When he was but a lad. 

" 'Twas at the time when Washington 
Had earned eternal fame. 
Had proved himself a soldier true 
And won a hero's name. 

"Near where the Blue Ridge mountains lift 
Their lofty brows to heaven, 
Unmindful of the thunder's shock. 
Nor by the lightning riven, 

"Where Shenandoah's sparkling stream 
And Greenbriar's waters clear 
Flow down through rocky mountain gorge. 
Where roams the fallow deer, 

"And slakes his thirst at mountain stream, 
Above the haunts of men. 
Or rests himself at noontide heat 
Within the shady fen, 

"The red man dwelt in wigwam rude, 
And longed to vent his rage 
Upon his pale-faced neighbors few 
And cruel warfare wage 

22 



grandmother's story 

"Upon those men who dared to claim 
A part of God's green earth ; 
He felt that all that land was his, 
Attained by right of birth. 

"When friends were scarce and neighbors few, 
And only by-paths led 
To where the red man lay in wait 
And wily warriors led. 

" 'Twas here the white man built his fort 
And dared assert his right — 
Should kindly words prove no avail 
His arm was strong to fight. 

"Within a warm but rude log hut 
My father dwelt a child. 
Around his home on every hand 
There stretched a forest wild. 

"Within that home those patient ones. 
Toiled on from day to day, 
And, gathered 'round their fireside. 
They knelt at night to pray. 

"A father in the stately prime 
Of mankind, bold and free; 
A mother, with her calm, sweet face, 
And loving children three. 

23 



grandmother's story 

"Time sped away in rapid flight 
'Til many days were spent, 
One brother and the httle maid 
Upon an errand went. 

"Upon their tried and trusted steeds 
The children rode away ; 
The anxious mother watched them go, 
Then turned aside to pray. 

"And when at last their aching hearts 
Grew sick and faint with fear, 
With straining eyes and nerves they saw 
The frightened steeds draw near. 

"And sticking in their quivering flesh, 
The cruel arrows told 
A story of the redman's hate 
And of his vengeance bold. 

"They found the mangled, lifeless form 
Of him, their eldest son, 
And saw the awful, fiendish work 
The scalping knife had done. 

"For him who lay a pallid corpse, 
Deprived of life and breath, 
The mother gave no sign of grief, 
But felt that worse than death 
24 



GRANDMOTHER S STORY 

"Was hers, the daughter's, hapless fate. 
By cruel captors bound, 
To wander through the wilderness 
By friends to ne'er be found. 

"For days and weeks the mother walked 
Her cabin floor in grief. 
But all in vain, no news was brought 
To give her heart relief. 

"Away from home, away from friends. 
Through forest dense and wild. 
With cruel pride and savage joy 
They led the captive child. 

"When night came on the little maid, 
With eyes unused to weep, 
Well guarded by two stalwart braves. 
Oft cried herself to sleep. 

"The springtime passed, the summer waned, 
And autumn came again. 
The mother, in her cabin home. 
Still mourned her child in vain. 

"And traveling on through northern wilds 
'Til they at last had found 
Beside Ohio's rapid stream 
A happy hunting ground. 
25 



GRANDMOTHER S STORY 

"And here they build the rude bark hut 
And speed the hght canoe 
Upon those waters swift and clear 
The long bright summer through. 

"Here women dig and plant the corn 
And rock the papoose young, 
Their nimble fingers, day by day, 
The shining beads oft strung. 

"The pale-faced maid, with shining locks. 
And eyes of deepest blue. 
Among those wild, untutored ones 
A gentle woman grew. 

"Though far removed from friends and home 
And all her kindred dear. 
She ne'er forgot those loving ones. 
And often shed a tear. 

"She longed to leave the Indian lodge, 
Be free once more to roam 
On Shenandoah's sunny banks, 
And find her southland home. 

"From out the North a white man came 
Who did not love the cause 
Of Freedom, and for hope of gain 
He broke his country's laws. 
26 



GRANDMOTHER S STORY 

"He brought to them the white man's foe, 
A stock of flint and arms, 
Well knowing they would dare invade 
The white man's home and farms. 

"In him the maiden found a friend, 
And on a lucky day, 
Securely hidden in his boat, 
He bore the girl away, 

"To find a welcome warm and kind 
Within his peaceful home, 
To find a safe and sure retreat 
'Til brighter days should come. 

"In her they found a willing mind, 
A pupil quick to learn. 
With skillful hand the needle ply 
Her daily bread to earn. 

"And when at last the war was o'er 
And wdiite-winged Peace had come. 
She bade adieu to northern friends 
And sought her childhood's home. 

"And after many weeks she saw. 
With eager kindling eye, 
The Blue Ridge mountains loom against 
A soft blue southern sky. 
27 



GRANDMOTHER S STORY 

"She heard the Shenandoah fall 
Upon its rocky bed, 
And saw the Greenbriar's waters flow 
With shady boughs o'erhead. 

"A half a score of changing years 
Had come and passed away 
Since she had left her father's house 
That sad, eventful day. 

"And now she came with thankful heart, 
A woman, yet a child. 
To find her father true and brave. 
Her mother sweet and mild. 

"To find the brother she had left 
A little child in tears, 
A handsome youth of stalwart form. 
Well grown to manhood's years. 

"And, mingled with her tears of joy. 
Were those she wept in vain 
For one who slept the sleep of death, 
She ne'er should see again. 

"But Time will bring a healing balm 
For every aching wound, 
Secure at last, no happier home 
Than theirs was to be found." 
28 



SIMILITUDE 

They tell us the bird with a broken wing 

Can never soar high again ; 
That all its efforts to rise and sing 

Will evermore be in vain. 

It may sit alone on the inner bough 

And twitter all day long, 
While its mates soar high in the deep blue sky 

And sing their glad free song. 

And they liken this poor, weak, wounded bird 

To the ruined broken life 
Of the wandering one who has gone astray 

And has fallen in sinful strife. 

But the Father saw the helpless bird 
• As it battled against the storm, 
And His mighty heart with pity stirred, 
And His tender love was warm. 

Likewise He pities His sinful child, 

And, as in the days of yore, 
He says, with a kind, forgiving smile, 

"Go ye, and sin no more." 
29 



THE DYING YEAR 

The Old Year dies on a couch of snow ! 

And the months his mourners are ; 
The wild winds wail above his bier, 
The snowflake falls like a frozen tear, 

And storm clouds drape his funeral car. 

The Old Year dies on a couch of snow ! 

His sun sinks low in the West, 

His pathway marks a Century's run, 
His hands are folded, his work is done, 

And he goes to his final rest. 

The months pass by in measured tread. 
As pilgrims flock to some sacred shrine ; 

They bring a wreath for the Old Year's head. 
And they deck his cold and icy bed 
With the laurel wreath and ivy vine. 

The Old Year sleeps in slumber deep, 
And the snow-drifts cover his grave ; 

With a rustling sound the brown leaves fall, 
The sad winds moan in the pine trees tall. 
And the hemlock's branches wave. 

30 



THE DYING YEAR 

The bells ring out in mournful chime 

With a sad and solemn toll ; 

The echoes sound like a funeral knell, 
The winds repeat a last farewell, 

They chant a dirge for the Old Year's soul. 



31 



BITTER SWEET 

Oh, dreams of the beautiful Past, 

Why haunt ye my memory still ? 
Bright visions that never could last. 

Why come ye my lone heart to thrill ? 
Ah, if I might always forget, 

Or forever thy memory retain ; 
'Tis sad to forget thee, and yet 

Remembrance but bringeth new pain. 

Bright dreams of the sunny gone-by. 

Fond hopes I have cherished so long. 
Why fade ye as flow'rets die, 

Crushed by the world's busy throng? 
'Tis only the hearts that have bled 

The pity we ask can bestow, 
For out of hope's ashes, thought dead. 

The fairest of flowers oft grow. 

Sometimes in the future I know 

This tempest of sorrow will cease, 
The turbulent waters of woe 

Give place to the river of peace ; 
Sometimes to my heart I shall clasp 

My beautiful long-sought-for prize, 
No more to be torn from my grasp, 

No more to be veiled from mine eyes. 

32 



BITTER SWEET 

By faith in the distance I see 

This storm cloud of grief roll away, 
Revealing in beauty to me 

The glorious light of new day ; 
No more for the Past will I weep, 

No fears can the Future annoy ; 
From tears I have sown I shall reap 

A bountiful harvest of joy. 



33 



INJUSTICE 

It ever has been and ever will be, 

From creation's dawn till the end of time, 
That what in man is mere offense 

The world regards as a woman's crime. 

And woman's heart may ache and break, 
While none but God and the angels know 

Or care to help in direst need 

The sinful carry her load of woe. 

Man walks abroad with a stately air, 
With pride of heart and power of brain. 

With never a thought and never a care 
For the bleeding victims his lust has slain. 

And no matter what his past has been. 
Nor how wild and wicked all his ways, 

He may even boast of his vilest sin, 

And the world accords him honor and praise. 

And stately mansions on every hand 
Open wide their doors to let him in ; 

He wields, as it were, a magic wand 

O'er countless numbers their smiles to win. 

34 



INJUSTICE 

And loving mothers, with daughters fair 
As the rose that blooms at early morn, 

And hearts as pure as the pearls they wear. 
Their virgin bosoms to adorn, 

Give a kindly smile and welcoming hand, 
Without a thought of their future pain. 

To him who wears the Cain-like brand, 
And who well deserves a traitor's name. 

And Judas leads his blushing bride 

To the marriage altar and plights a vow 

To love and cherish what e'er betide, 

As he prints a kiss on her fair young brow. 

The Angel that keeps the Book of Life 
Sheds a tear of pity for perjured man, 

And another falls with sorrow rife 

For her who suffers the cold world's ban. 

O God ! thou just and holy One, 

Who seeth the sparrows when they fall. 

In that bright home Thy suffering won 
There is love, and mercy, and room for all. 

Thou forgavest the woman who went astray, 

Thou Son of God men crucified, 
Before Thy throne on the Judgment Day 

Mankind shall at last be justified. 

35 



AGED CHRISTIANS 

Gently down life's peaceful river, 
With its ever-widening shore, 

Floats the bark of aged Christians, 
When their work on earth is o'er. 

Angels clothed in snowy garments, 
With their harps of shining gold, 

Ready stand to bid them welcome 
To the Savior's blessed fold. 

Slowly from our sight they're fading 
In the soft gray mists of eve, 

But their memory lives forever 
In the hearts that thus they leave. 

Care and toil for them are ended 
In the land where none grow old, 

And they drink the living water 

Flowing through the streets of gold. 

As they stand before the Father, 

A redeemed and blood-washed throng, 

Hear them chant in tones triumphant 
Free salvation's glad new song. 

36 



AGED CHRISTIANS 

O ! methinks I hear the music 
Of the song the ransomed sing, 

Through the "House of Many Mansions" 
Hear the swelHng chorus ring. 

And those strains of wondrous story 
Come to me from worlds afar, 

Wafted through the Gates of Glory, 
Standing open, not ajar. 

And my weary, wounded spirit. 
Lifted high on Fancy's wing. 

Longs to burst her bonds asunder, 
Tune her harp and soar and sing 

In those realms where come no sighing. 
Where God wipes all tears away. 

And where Love and Peace immortal 
Live one long eternal day. 



37 



HIDDEN JEWELS 

No soul is so lost to honor, 
No heart so weak and vile, 

But one little spark remaineth 
Of that which is free from guile. 

A love for the pure and holy 
Is planted in human hearts ; 

A germ, though dwarfed in growing, 
Shall never wholly depart. 

The sinner, low and degraded. 
With his burning, throbbing brain. 

Longs for a word of kindness. 
Though his longing be in vain. 

And Magdalen, with her garments 
Dyed deep in the crimson stain 

Of sin, walks forth, heart hungry, 
For a balm to ease her pain. 

She longs to wash her garments 
In the fount whence waters flow 

'For the healing of the nations," 
And make them whiter than snow. 

38 



HIDDEN JEWELS 

But, alas ! the so-called Christian, 
In calm and stately pride, 

With his saintly face averted. 
Walks by on the other side. 

Forgetful of Christ's great pity 
For those who have gone astray, 

Nor seeks by love to win them 
To walk in a better way. 

For we are all God's children. 
Brothers in flesh and blood ; 

No man is without some weakness. 
Nor altogether good. 



39 



BABY AT THE WINDOW 

DEDICATED TO MISS FLORENCE A. NEWMAN 

I know not the name of the baby 
Who lives just over the way, 

But its smile is a ray of sunshine 
Across my path each day. 

And my footsteps often linger 

In my passing to and fro 
To catch a glimpse of the baby 

As it answers the kiss I throw. 

The face is so pure and lovely, 
With its smiling lips apart. 

And its innocent look so trusting, 
I would clasp it to my heart. 

And the laughing eyes in brightness 
Would rival the noonday sun, 

For the baby face at the window 
My heart has completely won. 

I feel when I miss the baby 

That something bright is gone ; 

My heart grows lighter and better 
When its answering smile I've won. 

Only the touch of a baby soul ! 

But in every human heart 
Is a fountain deeply hidden 

That to life will surely start. 
40 




BABY AT THK WINDOW 



BABY AT THE WINDOW 

As the Angel of Light floats downward 

And kisses the waters deep, 
And filled with pure thoughts wholly, 

They wake from their silent sleep. 

What is so pure as a baby's soul ? 

Naught else to us is given 
So pure as the heart of a little child, 

"Of such is the kingdom of heaven." 

Only a baby's gentle touch ! 

But its soft and snowy beauty 
Drifts downward, like the flowers of May, 

To strengthen life and duty. 

The hand that knows and suffers want, 
The hand that strives for gain ; 

The hand that sorrow rests upon, 
The hand that suffers pain, 

Through the soft touch of baby's hand 
Sweet peace and joy have found; 

And in a baby's loving kiss, 
A balm for every wound. 

The baby face at the window ! 

Is the fairest face I see ; 
Its smile is an inspiration, 

A precious gift to me. 

41 



"AFTER CLOUDS, SUNSHINE" 

After clouds there will be sunshine! 

Blest hope of weary waiting souls, 
To know behind this pall of darkness 

The Day-God still in splendor rolls ; 
To know that after all this sorrow. 

This nightmare of soul-rending pain, 
The rifted clouds will show at parting 

The "eternal blue" of heaven again. 

After clouds there will be sunshine! 

It may not be at noon-tide heat, 
It may not be till late at even 

That rest be given our wandering feet ; 
But when at last our work is ended. 

Our life-task wrought, all labor done, 
The noon-day sun ne'er shone so brightly 

As glows the radiant western sun. 

O mighty hand that lifts these shadows, 

O voice of love with words of cheer, 
O face divine, our blessed Savior's, 

That beams on us divinely near ; 
His hand. His voice. His love will lead us 

From pain and suffering, sin and strife, 
To walk the fields of endless glory, 

The hills of everlasting life. 
42 



A WISH 

I would that you and I might be 
What we were in the days gone by, 

That Fate might give to us the key 
That locks the happy Past for aye. 

That we might turn the grating lock 
And hear the rusty hinges creak, 

Might wander through the haunted rooms 
And by-gone memories seek. 

That we might lay with reverent hand 
(Yet smile amid the falling tears) 

Upon its shrouded couch to-day 
The ghost of vanished years. 

Then turn us back with noiseless tread 
And close for aye the creaking door 

That shuts us from the buried Past, 
To cross its threshold nevermore. 

And, turning from the shadows grim. 
That once have fallen on our way, 

Go up the heights that lead to Him — 
Whose hand unlocks our perfect day. 

And walking in that better way, 
'Mid fairer fields 'neath clearer sky. 

Might rest ourselves from day to day 
Where calm Contentment's waters lie. 

43 



BETTER 

Better a thousand times, aye, better 

The truth were left unsaid, 
Than the bHghting shadow of doubt 

Should fall in curses on our head ; 
For truth is stranger than fiction. 

But the world is slow to believe. 
Unless of the same opinion, 

The story was told to deceive. 

Better a thousand times, aye, better 

The world should never know 
How heavy the burden we carry. 

Nor how full our cup of woe ; 
Better that we our sorrow 

Alone should bear and hide 
Than suffer the proud world's scorning 

To harrow our wounded pride. 

Some of the sweetest songs have never 

Unto the world been sung. 
Some of the saddest stories never 

From suffering hearts been wrung ; 

44 



BETTER 

Not all the grand old heroes 
On the battlefield have died, 

They are those who hide their sorrow 
Beneath the seal of- pride. 

Down deep in the inmost recess 

Of every throbbing heart 
There's a room that none may enter, 

A chamber set apart ; 
There we keep our buried treasures, 

Too sacred for prying eye ; 
There walks the ghost of Fancy, 

Where the graves of dead hopes lie. 



45 



DEAD TO THE WORLD 

Who is she with eye once clear and bright 

And locks of shining hair, 
With lofty brow so pure and white 

And rounded cheek that once was fair ; 
With lips that opened like a flower 

To shed its fragrance on the summer air, 
Or like a bird in leafy bower. 

That never knew the weight of care ? 

Who is she with eye no longer bright. 

With wasted cheek and pallid brow, 
Whose day has turned to darkest night, 

Whose voice has lost its music now ? 
Above her hangs the cloud of dark despair, 

And grief sits brooding by her cold hearthstone, 
Her heart is sad, no songs are there. 

The voice of love is hushed — she is alone. 

Dead to the world ! why seal the doom 

Of one so frail and O ! so young ; 
Why wrap a shroud of deepest gloom 

Around a heart already wrung 
By keen remorse and deep regret, 

That evermore will ache with bitter pain 
O'er by-gone joys she'll ne'er forget 

And happiness that never comes again? 
46 



DEAD TO THE WORLD 

Go ye and find the partner of her sin, 

And make him sharer of the woe 
Of the young life he wooed to ruin 

And feel the sorrow she must know ; 
Make him, the traitor, cringe and kneel 

Before the heart he lightly won, 
Till he may see and know and feel 

What evil thing his hand has done. 

Ye Pharisees ! who loudly prate 

'Gainst evil both in court and street, 
Why cast ye stones at one, and wait to greet 

With outstretched hand and smiling lips 
Another, who with garments dyed 

As deeply with the crimson stain, 
Walks forth in bold, defiant pride. 

Knowing your favor he will gain? 

Ye may be blind ; the Omniscient Eye 

Sees all, and knows the destined end 
Of all mankind. He can descry 

The goal to which their footsteps tend. 
And He, the Just and Holy One, 

The God of Love, and Truth, and Right, 
Will roll away doubt's heavy stone 

And break the seal of Sorrow's Night. 



47 



MY MOTHER'S HOME 
[set to music] 

O, there's no place so dear to my heart, friends, 

As the place where my mother was born, 
Where the meadows are sweet with bright flowers 

And the birds twitter gayly at morn ; 
Where the sunlight falls soft on the orchard 

And fills it with beauty each day. 
Where it glows with new splendor at evening 

And kisses the homestead so gray. 

O, there comes to my heart saddest memories 

As I think of the dear Long Ago ; 
I remember the grave on the hillside 

By the stream where the bright waters flow ; 
I remember the time of our parting 

When they told me my mother was dead, 
I have wandered alone broken-hearted, 

With no place I can pillow my head. 

O, I long for the arms of my mother, 

I long for her kiss on my brow — 
There is none who will love me, no other. 

As my mother has loved me, I trow ; 

48 



MY MOTHER S HOME 

O, I fain would lie down by my mother, 
There my pain and my sorrow to hide, 

There forget all the tears I would smother 
As I drift with Eternity's tide. 

Yes, the angels have taken my mother 

To a home where no sorrow will come, 
There she watches and waits for another 

To welcome her loved one at home ; 
O, methinks I can see my dear mother 

As she waits on the glittering strand, 
I can see the bright crown on her forehead 

And the gleam of her beckoning hand. 



49 



WHO? 

Who is the greatest sinner : 

The one who goes astray, 
Or the one who plans to ruin 

And wihf ully leads the way ? 

Well knowing our brother's weakness, 

We act the coward's part 
If we, by evil influence, 

Betray his trusting heart. 

Are we our brother's keeper ? 

We fain would answer nay ; 
But conscience deems us guilty 

If we had led the way 

To where Sin's poisonous flowers 

Distil their upas breath 
To lure unwary victims 

Within the Shades of Death. 

Who is the greatest sinner ? 

Truth answers with flashing eye : 
'Tis he who plans to ruin. 

Nor heeds the lost soul's cry. 

50 



A STARRY NIGHT 

O ! starry night, with eyes so bright 

And crown of jewels rare, 
No king e'er wore a diadem 

Or garments half so fair. 

Arrayed in white, with crown of light, 
Thou sittest on thy throne ; 

Before thee loyal subjects bow. 
Thy rightful rule they own. 

The winds now bring their harps to sin^ 

In murmurs soft and low ; 
The tall, dark pines against the sky 

Their graceful shadows throw. 

Whilst others sleep or vigils keep. 
The frost king sallies forth, 

And brings a troop of shining ones 
From out the frozen North. 

With magic wand in skillful hand 

He touches vale and lea. 
And lays a string of shining pearls 

On every shrub and tree. 

51 



A STARRY NIGHT 

In mossy nook the noisy brook 

No more is heard or seen, 
In shining crypt it long has slept 

Beneath a silvery sheen. 

Whilst angels sing and tidings bring 

Of peace, good will to men ! 
Heaven's choir shall sing this glad refrain. 

Earth echo back again. 

O, starry night, with eyes so bright, 

A thousand years from now 
These jewels rare, these garments fair, 

Shall deck thee same as now. 



52 



BROKEN CONFIDENCE 

Mourn for a confidence betrayed, 

A friendship rudely broken ; 
Weep for our brother's unkind thought, 

For words untimely spoken. 

Keen and swift as the dagger thrust 
They pierce each bleeding heart, 

Quick as the angry lightning's flash 
Two souls have drifted apart. 

Those who once walked the flowery path, 

Where friendship's roses grew, 
Have found naught else for them but hate 

In hearts they thought were true. 

Back through the vista of the Past, 

Adown the aisle of Time, 
The echo of memory's bells is heard 

In mournful dirge-like chime. 

Sorrow sits at the festal board, 

A strange, unwelcome guest ; 
Grief lays its hand of leaden weight 

Upon each throbbing breast. 

53 



BROKEN CONFIDENCE 

Joy vanishes with specter tread, 
And burning tear-drops start ; 

Laughter echoes with mocking sound 
Through the chambers of the heart. 

Never again will doubting hearts 
Be bound in friendship's chain ; 

Broken the golden links of love 
Must evermore remain. 



54 



CHURCH BELLS 
[set to music] 

Ring on, sweet bells, I love to hear 
The echo of thy music clear ; 
Borne on soft winds, thy notes do come 
To cheer me in my country home. 
Where meadows green and orchards fair 
With incense fill the balmy air. 
Ring on, 'tis music to my soul, 
The waves of trouble cease to roll. 

Ring on, sweet bells, each Sabbath morn 
Proclaim to all that Christ was born ; 
Ring on, in Christian welcome sweet 
The prodigal's return to greet ; 
Thy notes do speak of God's pure love 
Sent down from shining realms above. 
Ring on, sweet bells, ring on for e'er. 
Thy joyful notes I love to hear. 

Ring on, nor let thy ringing cease 
'Till every heart is filled with peace. 
Until God's messengers shall come 
To bear His chosen to their home. 

55 



CHURCH BELLS 



Ring on a welcome all may share, 
A welcome to the house of prayer ; 
Ring on, nor let thy ringing cease 
Till every heart is filled with peace. 



CHORUS 



Ring on, sweet bells ; ring on, ring on. 
Rmg on, sweet bells ; ring on, ring on. 
Ring on, sweet bells ; ring on, ring on. 
Ring on, sweet bells ; ring on, ring on. 



56 



FORGIVE AND BE FORGIVEN 

O ! to forgive and be forgiven 
The unkind words we've said, 

Remove forever the doubt that hangs 
Like a pall above our head. 

O ! to forgive as we would ask 

Of another to be forgiven, 
In the sunlight pure our souls to bask 

As the boon for which we've striven. 

O ! to forgive and be forgiven, 

As the Bible says we must. 
To lay aside our pride and hate, 

To our brother's faults be just. 

O ! to forgive and be forgiven, 
To humble our own false pride. 

To break the will of our stubborn hearts, 
Whatever else betide. 

To be the first to forgive, and say, 
"I have suffered great and long; 

Forgive, I pray you, and let us each 
Forget the other's wrong. 

57 



FORGIVE AND BE FORGIVEN 

"Forgive in truth, nor longer let 
Hard thoughts our hearts divide, 
Be friends henceforth and let the past 
Go out with the ebbing tide." 



58 



"MY OLD-FASHIONED MOTHER" 

Thank God ! for what He gave me, 
To bless my childhood days — 

My mother, with a heart of love 
And good, old-fashioned ways. 

Around her fireside, warm and bright. 

There clustered, day by day. 
Ten children in its rosy light, 

And knelt at night to pray. 

For us she lived, and loved, and worked ; 

Hers was a daily prayer, 
To train for God immortal souls 

Committed to her care. 

Her snowy cap, with frill of lace, 

Methinks I see it yet ; 
Her loving smile on saintly face 

I never can forget. 

Think ye our mother was a drudge. 
To worth of learning blind? 

Ah ! no ; her studies day by day 
Had kept a well-stored mind. 

59 



THE OLD-FASHIONED MOTHER 

From fount of knowledge pure and deep 

She drew a precious store, 
And slaked her thirst for priceless truth 

At wells of sacred lore. 

'Twas me she chose from out her flock 

As offering to the Lord, 
To carry tidings glad to all 

Of Him her heart adored. 

She slept at last, when four-score years 
Had crowned with beauty rife 

The glory of her womanhood, 
A spotless. Christian life. 

When with my aged sire I stood 
Where mother's form was laid. 

With holy silence reigning 'round, 
A fervent prayer I prayed 

To Him who gave me in my youth 

This gift above all other, 
More precious far than rubies are — 

My good, old-fashioned mother. 



60 



WHERE IS MY BABY? 

O ! tell me where is my baby, 

With his shining gold-brown curls, 
With his dark, bright eyes and rosy lips. 

And snowy throat like a girl's ; 
With dimpled hands and wee round face 

And the light of love in his eyes. 
With his soft white arms of baby grace 

And his questioning look so wise. 

O ! tell me where is my baby, 

The baby to me so dear ; 
The sound of his pattering footsteps 

Falls not on my listening ear ; 
The rooms are so empty and quiet, 

My heart is so lonely each day ; 
I long for the sound of the voice 

Of my baby prattling at play. 

I never shall see my baby. 

With his shining hair in curl ; 
He wanted it cut off, he said, 

" 'Cause the boys call me a girl." 
And those gleaming golden tresses 

Were cut from the sweet baby head ; 
I gathered them close with loving care 

And over them warm tears shed. 
6i 



WHERE IS MY BABY? 

One bright curl I have laid away 

In a safe and sacred place, 
Beside the dear little picture 

That shows me the sweet baby face ; 
A face of innocent beauty 

To my heart and soul complete, 
The face of my fair-haired darling. 

There is none that is half so sweet. 

The years have so quickly vanished 

Over my baby's sunny head. 
They have taken from me my baby 

And left a man instead ; 
And oft as I sit in dreaming 

I list for the sound of his feet, 
I feel his head on my bosom 

And our lips in warm kisses meet. 

My heart grows sick with emotion, 

And I breathe an earnest prayer 
Of thanks to the Allwise Father 

For His tender and loving care ; 
He has taken the child and given 

Me a man in years and size ; 
I see in his face true manhood. 

The image of God in his eyes. 



62 



ST. VALENTINE'S DAY 

This is the day of all the year 
To the heart of youth and maiden dear, 
When Cupid roams abroad at will, 
And the hearts of bashful lovers thrill 
With new desire their troth to prove, 
And win the heart of each lady love. 

With skillful hand the artist traces 

On the tinted pages fair, sweet faces ; 

And 'round the margin wreathes and twines 

A spray of rose and graceful vine ; 

Bids Cupid haste on winged feet 

To bear this message true and sweet 

To her he loves, who like some flower 

Waits idly dreaming in her bower. 

Nor waits he long nor waits in vain 
For words that bring him joy or pain. 
And poet-like he sings a lay 
In honor of the good Saint's Day. 



63 



"ONCE WE WERE SEVEN" 

But that was long, long years ago, 
Beneath the skies of a northern land. 

Where the prairie winds sweep high and low 
And the frost king forges his frozen band. 

Our home was a humble cot, 

But love was ever a present guest, 

For our mother made that lowly spot 

A place where our father found sweet rest. 

An angel was sent to earth one day 
To find a soul that was ripe for heaven, 

And his path led down the shining way 
To the happy home where dwelt the seven. 

He laid his hand on our mother's heart 

And stilled the pulse of her throbbing breast ; 

He called to her and said "Depart ! 

To heaven and find your waiting rest." 

Her cheek grew paler, her eye grew dim, 
She heard the summons that wintry day ; 

She left all cares and went to Him, 
To find a home and rest alway. 

64 



ONCE WE WERE SEVEN 

Our home was broken ; but we, too young 

To realize how great our loss, 
Our father's heart with grief was wrung. 

Alone he bore his heavy cross. 

A marble shaft that bears her name 

Marks the place of our mother's grave. 

Where northern skies send down their rain 
And where the pine tree's branches wave. 

She rests in peace, no kindred nigh, 

But a loyal band, a sisterhood 
Of woman true 'neath summer sky 

Deck the graves of the brave and good. 

And one kind friend for love's sweet sake 
Lays a gift of blossoms, all her own, 

On mother's grave ; she never will wake 
Till the Lord comes back to claim His own. 

One sister sleeps where the western sun 
Gilds with glory each dome and spire 

Of a city fair, and the Kaw flows on, 
Its bosom touched by celestial fire! 

Where a shining river runs broad and free 

Through the shady groves of the warm South- 
land 
Till it finds the shore of the deep blue sea, 
Where the rippling waves go hand in hand. 

65 



ONCE WE WERE SEVEN 

Our father rests in slumber deep, 

All undisturbed by friend or foe, 
And the watching stars their vigil keep, 

Like sentinels, to guard his last repose. 

A brother sleeps in an unmarked grave 
Among the lost and nameless dead. 

Above his grave the wild winds wave. 
And the rain clouds gather overhead. 

We weep for him, but all in vain ; 

We know not where nor how he died ; 
Our tears fall fast as the April rain 

For him who was once our mother's pride. 

But three are left of that broken home 
To know the pains and ills of life. 

To bear the burden when sorrows come 
And fight the battle of daily strife. 

Our lives flow on like an endless stream ; 

We are slowly drifting with the tide ; 
We shall wake at last from life's troubled dream 

To find our loved on the farther side. 



66 



HEROES 

O ! ye who bear the ills of life 
And crowns of suffering wear, 

Ye know naught of the world's dark strife, 
Ye have no cross to bear. 

The Father sees and knows your pain, 

And kindly sends a balm ; 
For every ache, threefold ye gain 

In peaceful holy calm. 

Affliction's fires will make thee pure, 
Bring thoughts of holiest birth ; 

Shut in from sin ye are secure. 
Ye saintly ones of earth. 

For ye escape the battle's din, 

Ye see no dark clouds lower. 
Ye cross no swords with high-born sin. 

Nor hear Hate's cannon roar. 

But they who meet the cold, proud world. 

And hear its unjust blame, 
'Gainst whom the darts of sin are hurled. 

Deserve a hero's name. 

67 



COULD WE BUT KNOW 

Could we but know what joys the Father wills our part 
We would not reach for treasures our frail hands 
can never grasp ; 
Then we would prize and fold more closely to the heart 
Those things which God hath deemed it best that we 
should clasp ; 
We would not seek the rose e'er comes it time to 
bloom, 
But be content to wait and love the tender leaves ; 
We would not fold our hands and say there is no room 
For us among the few who bind the golden sheaves. 

Could we but know to read our brother's heart aright 

We would not trust the false, but only love the true ; 
But ah, the heart's deep mysteries, by day and night. 

Unread by us are hidden from our wavering view. 
Could we but know all this 'twould save us many a 
sigh; 

We would not then our love unworthily bestow; 
No tear o'er trust betrayed would ever dim an eye, 

But friends might prove the love they wish to know. 
68 



COULD WE BUT KNOW 

Could we but know what glory gilds the throne of 
God, 
We would not cling to life and transient joys of 
earth ; 
In spirit we could tread the hills by angels trod 
And feast our eyes on things of holier birth ; 
But God in His great love and wisdom knoweth why 
He hides from us this knowledge, for 'tis His alone ; 
He bids us live in faith till in the "by and by" 

The gates roll backward and reveal the pearly 
throne. 



69 



THE BUMBLE BEE 

While in the meadow straying 

I met a traveler bold, 
He wore a velvet jacket 

And a coat of shining gold. 

He was a handsome fellow, 
And none might even dare 

To rival him in beauty 

Beneath the noonday's glare. 

With bright and shining helmet 
He came the flowers to woo; 

He chose the sweetest, fairest, 
And those of richest hue. 

And as some bold and errant knight 
Leaves bleeding hearts behind. 

He sipped the wine from ruby lips, 
Then sailed away to find 

Another fount of nectar sweet 
To yield its precious store 

To him, the robber bold and free. 
And feel his kiss no more. 
70 



A PRAYER 

O God, thou great all-wise Creator 
Of every good and perfect thing, 

Who sittest on Thy throne in heaven, 
A wise and universal King. 

Low at Thy feet in adoration 

We fain would humbly bow 
And lift our hearts in supplication, 

Lord, Jesus, hear us now. 

In this, the time when weight of sorrow 

Upon our souls is pressed, 
O give us strength to-day, to-morrow. 

And may our souls find rest 

In Thee, the source of life and comfort, 
From whence all blessings flow. 

Thou who canst pardon each transgression 
And all our sufferings know. 

Yea, know and feel a tender pity. 
More than our earthly parents feel, 

Stretch forth Thy hand so full of mercy 
And these our heart-wounds heal. 

71 



A PRAYER 

We look to Thee, dear Lord, believing 

Thy promises shall stand ; 
We ask in perfect faith, receiving- 

A blessing from Thy hand. 

For Thou hast heard our poor petition. 

Our faith is not in vain ; 
For this, our hope, our consolation, 

We bless Thy holy name. 



72 



THOUGHTFUL MEN 

Man prates of woman's weakness 

And of her body frail, 
And says to give protection 

His arm shall never fail. 

He claims superior knowledge 
Of all the world's bad ways, 

And vows that true devotion 
Shall measure all his days. 

For fear his wife, so lovely, 
Should see and know some sin. 

He shuts and bars securely 
The door, and locks her in. 

It's altogether useless 

For wives to gad about, — 

Just leave their lord and master 
To find the secrets out. 

She'll hear of all that's going, 
She need to have no fears ; 

He'll tell her all worth knowing 
Except his own affairs. 

73 



THOUGHTFUL MEN 

He wants his meals all ready, 
He can not bear to wait ; 

He's always in a hurry, 
For fear he'll be too late 

To attend the down-town meeting 
He promised Brown, you know ; 

His wife is always tired — 
She doesn't care to go. 

This Brown's a jolly fellow; 

The boys call him good. 
And he's a man of leisure — 

His wife can saw the wood. 

If he should take a notion 
To bring a friend to dine, 

And find his wife untidy — 
You know she ought to shine. 

He doesn't say politely, 

"My wife, sir, has no cook," 

But treats the matter lightly, 
And gives his spouse a look 

That tells her all too plainly 

Unless she be in curl 
Before his friend, the lawyer. 

She plays the hired girl. 

74 



THOUGHTFUL MEN 

There's Smith, the man of physics, 
Who makes a wondrous pill. 

All coated o'er with sugar — 
It's sure to cure or kill. 

He sports a killing mustache 
And wears a smiling face, 

And doffs his hat so deftly 
In every public place. 

The wondering people all admire, 
And stretch their necks to see 

The man who sports a rubber tire, 
And writes his name M. D. 

And if his wife don't please him, 
Or fails to mend his clothes, 

He simply cuts her wages 
And lets her turn the hose. 

Come all, and sing the praises 
Of these dear, thoughtful men, 

Who love their wives so truly. 
No word of tongue or pen 

Can ever tell the story 

Of how they sacrifice 
To keep their wives employed 

For fear they'll grow too wise. 

75 



THOUGHTFUL MEN 

Now, all ye lovely maidens, 

Before you seek to wed, 
Be sure you find a sweetheart 

Who has the biggest head. 

And say you ne'er will question 
Just how he spends his days, 

But try to save the nickels 
And humor all his ways. 

And should his purse grow slender. 
No matter just how thin 

You grow ; to buy his cigars 
You'll take some washing in. 



76 



SUNSET 

On fields of gold, on fields of green, 

A gleam of glory lies, 
And floods of golden sunlight pour 

From out the western skies ; 
Close by the song bird builds her nest 

Deep in the darkling wood, 
And murmuring low her song of love, 

She rears her downy brood. 

Night comes, and drops the shining bars 

Where earth and heaven meet, 
And ushers in a troop of stars 

On swift and noiseless feet; 
Day draws the curtain of his couch 

And lays him down to sleep, 
Until the Day-God's blazing eye 

Shall pierce his slumber deep. 



17 



WHY SHOULD WE CARE? 

Why should we care though friends we love 

Their vows to us forget? 
Why should our hearts e'er throb with pain, 

Our cheeks by tears be wet? 
Perhaps they thought they loved us once, 

Nor meant to be unkind, 
But human heart is human still — 

Alas, mankind is blind. 

Why should we care though darkest clouds 

May hide our sun from view? 
If we but look we catch a gleam 

Of glory shining through ; 
The sunshine can not always last, 

The clouds and storms will come ; 
They only waft life's shattered bark 

Each day still nearer home. 



78 



OLD PEOPLE'S DAY 

Go gather in the tinted leaves 

Of crimson green and gold, 
And bring the fruits of Autumn time 

In honor of the old. 

Let nimble fingers garlands weave 

To deck our church to-day ; 
Go bring them in from every home, 

The feeble, old and gray. 

Ring out, ye bells, in joyful chime 

A welcome rich and sweet ; 
Go, youth, with willing, helpful hand, 

To guide their tottering feet. 

And lead them where they love to go. 

Beside the altar rail. 
And let them bow their hoary heads 

Upon their hands so frail. 

Here let them lift their trembling hearts, 

O Lord, in faith to Thee, 
And may a shower of blessings fall 

Upon them full and free. 

79 



OLD PEOPLE S DAY 

Let every heart with one accord 
Break forth in songs of praise 

To Him who leads them safely on 
And numbers all their days. 

A few more days, a few more months, 

A few more weary years 
Of toil and pain and bitter grief 

And flow of blinding tears. 

And when the day of endless rest 
Breaks on their raptured sight, 

Their happy souls on wings of love 
Shall heavenward take their flight. 



80 



"FRIENDSHIP" 

Speak not lightly of pure friendship, 

'Tis a gem no wealth can buy; 
Though Mortality may perish, 

Friendship lives beyond the sky ; 
Golden link that bindeth earth to heaven, 

Offspring of infinite love, 
Proud men bow in adoration, 

Princes seek its sweets to prove. 

Speak not lightly of pure friendship, 

Seek to claim it as thine own ; 
Scorn it not nor deem it worthless. 

Rather bow before its throne ; 
'Tis the power that rules creation. 

Germ of an eternal life, 
Filling hearts with noblest motives. 

Guarding against all sin and strife. 

Speak not lightly of pure friendship, 
Jesus prized its sacred worth ; 

See Him bow in humble Bethany 
With the lowly ones of earth; 
8i 



FRIENDSHIP 

There He findeth rest from labor, 
Shares a brother's, sister's love. 

While on earth an elder brother, 
Father in the courts above. 

Speak not lightly, then, of friendship, 

Guard it as a sacred thing ; 
Union strong by God made perfect. 

Spotless as an angel's wing; 
Cherish, then, the tie of friendship. 

Idler vain break not the band ; 
Hearts once bound are bound forever, 

Sealed by God's own loving hand. 



82 



MOONLIGHT SONG 

Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! the moon is shining bright, 

Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! come out with me to-night ; 

Come, stray among the flowers 

In summer-scented bowers — 

Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! come out with me to-night. 

Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! the moon is shining bright, 

Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! come out with me to-night ; 

All nature sings in harmony, 

The air is full of melody — 

Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! come out with me to-night. 

Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! the moon is shining bright. 
Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! come out with me to-night ; 
Come, hear my tale of love to thee, 
And murmur back sweet words to me — 
Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! come out with me to-night. 



83 



HEART TREASURES 

I bury my treasures to-day, 

And over them shed no tears ; 
In the grave I have made I lay them away, 

To slumber through coming years ; 
Those treasures of mine, ah me, 

Would they had ne'er been born ; 
But the gilding was fair, I could not see 

Each rose was secreting a thorn. 

Yes, I bury my treasures from sight, 

And over them shed not a tear, 
But memory's camp-fires still glow bright 

For those treasures to me once dear; 
Too dear to forget, though I may not weep, 

Nor the future be like to the past ; 
Rest on, my treasures, in beautiful sleep, 

Thou wert ever too lovely to last. 



84 



I 



CONTENTMENT 

O why not be content with what God gives, 

Nor wish to change His wise decree? 
For He is just, true wisdom marks His ways, 

He knoweth what is best for you and me. 
"God knows the best." Our hps oft frame these 
words. 

And yet our hearts rebel when sorrows come, 
And when the cold, dark clouds of fate 

Hide for a time Hope's bright celestial sun. 

Ah ! how can we, professing love for Christ, 

Doubt for a moment that His ways are best? 
Do we not see in grass and flower 

His wondrous love made manifest? 
And if we would not turn away 

When God holds out His bounteous store, 
Each soul might feast on choicest food 

And cease its cry of hunger evermore. 

Thrice blessed he who puts his trust in Christ 
And hears unflinchingly the tempest's roar. 

Though all around the lightnings flash 
He sees a light upon the farther shore, 

85 



CONTENTMENT 



And grasps the hand held out to lead him home 
Beyond the ocean's foaming crest, 

Where weary hearts may find a lasting peace 
And "tired feet with loosened sandals rest." 



86 



A LIGHT IN THE WINDOW 

There's a light in the window of heaven for me 

That shineth so radiantly bright, 
Though far in the distance by faith I can see 

This glittering beacon of light. 

'Tis a beautiful star that shines there to guide 
Me safely through darkness and gloom, 

For over the billowy spray-dashing tide 
In those mansions for me there is room. 

There's a light in the window of heaven for me, 

Growing brighter as onward I go. 
Though clouds hover near me, its gleaming I see, 

And my good angel keeps it aglow. 

'Tis a glorious light unrivaled by day. 
Shining down from God's palace above. 

Where my mother will greet me over the way 
With her glad, tender whisperings of love. 

Yes, a light in the window of heaven I see, 
Though I look through a mist-cloud of tears ; 

In childhood it shone there in beauty for me, 
'Tis my anchor in womanhood's years. 

87 



FAREWELL 

Farewell, a long and sad farewell, 

Beloved, prized and trusted friend ; 
Where'er thou goest, where'er I dwell, 

I'll be the same true to the end. 
No love but thine can cheer my life, 

No other voice can thrill me with its tone, 
No other hand can aid me in the strife ; 

I live for thee and thee alone. 

Farewell, yes, fare thee well, for aye. 

Love's sweetest blossoms crushed and bleeding lie, 
Hope ushers in no more the light of happy days. 

Grief fills with clouds life's once clear sky ; 
I'll not forget thee as time glides along 

And brings perchance kind, loving friends to me; 
Ah, yes, in midst of merry jest and song, 

I'll think with pleasure of the past and thee. 



TWO FRIENDS 
[rhetta and eva] 

They came to me in springtime fair, 

When breezes soft were blowing, 
When blossoms sweet perfumed the air 

And grasses green were growing. 
The Queen of May her magic wand 

Waved o'er the yielding earth, 
And forthwith came to deck our land 

Sweet flowers of gentle birth. 

Dame nature, dressed in emerald green. 

Her wreathes and garlands bringing. 
Took up the harp by us unseen 

And bade us join her singing; 
She swept the strings with skillful hands. 

Each chord with music filling, 
Sweet strains that spoke of better lands 

Burst forth, the weary heart-throb stilling. 

Love spread his feast, bade us draw nigh. 

His welcome guests invited ; 
He bade us banish every sigh, 

Partake, full well delighted ; 
89 



TWO FRIENDS 

We filled our cups with purest wine 

And drank to faith and duty, 
We ate the bread of Truth divine, 

And praised its lasting beauty. 

Spring fled, bright summer came and went. 

Like fairy visions fleeting, 
Above us tinted skies are bent 

Whilst autumn brings us greeting; 
Cold winter comes, and yet love's store 

For us seems undiminished ; 
When spring-time comes with smiles once more 

She'll find our feast unfinished. 



90 



BLOSSOMS AND BIRDS 




FLOWERS EVERYWHERE. 



FLOWERS EVERYWHERE 

Out on the lawn a child was playing, 
While the wind caressed her hair, 

Hither and thither her feet went straying 
In search of flowers fair ; 

And the childish voice kept time in saying, 
"Flowers, flowers are ev'rywhere. 

"Mamma, I know our city home is fair 
And bright with costly things. 

But no such flowers as these grow there — 
The birds don't have such glossy wings ; 

I never breathe such soft, sweet air, 
Nor see the robin when she sings. 

"But here the flowers grow wild and free. 
And blossoms cover all the land ; 

From every bush, from every tree. 
The birds are heard on every hand ; 

They sing glad songs for you and me, 
They are a busy, happy band/' 

The little maiden culled bright flowers, 
The winds caressed her shining hair, 

The sunshine fell in golden showers 
Upon her cheek and forehead fair, 

And in Life's rosy morning hours 

She found sweet blossoms everywhere. 

93 



MAY 

O fair, sweet month of May ! 

With bahny scented air, 
And pink and snowy bloom 

Drifting, drifting everywhere. 

O gladsome month of May ! 

With robes of emerald hue. 
And flocks of fleecy clouds 

Adrift a sky of blue, 

glorious month of May ! 
Adorned with wreaths of flowers, 

1 lay me down to rest 
Within thy scented bowers. 

The god of slumber comes 
And lays a soothing wand 

Upon my lips and brow 

And takes my willing hand, 

And leads me gently on 

Where flowers perennial spring, 
And where the joyous notes 

Of feathered songsters ring, 

94 



MAY 

Adown a flowery path, 

Where golden sunHght gleams, 
Through meadows bright and fair, 

Where tiny, sparkling streams 

Flow on from day to day 

Through meadows broad and free, 
Until they find their home 

Within the deep blue sea. 

Where they may rest secure. 
As trusting children sleep. 

Rocked in those mighty arms — 
The cradle of the deep. 

O gladsome month of May ! 

With smiling azure skies, 
Methinks thy fields are like 

The fields of Paradise. 



9S 



BLOSSOMS AND BIRDS 

Blossoms and birds ! blossoms and birds ! 
These are two of the sweetest words 
We can imagine that we fall over 
Under apple trees, among the clover, 
And hear the hum of the busy bees 
Flying in and out among the trees. 
Gathering sweets from the dainty cup 
Of each shining blossom lifted up 
Like the face of a maiden fair and sweet. 
As she turns with a smile her love to greet. 

Blossoms and birds ! blossoms and birds ! 
Who'd ever believe that two small words 
Could make such a stir in a fellow's heart 
And cause the laughter and tears to start, 
Make him leave his books and the dusty town, 
Go out in the country and lie down 
Under cherry trees, and drink his fill 
Of the summer sunshine, warm and still, 
And dream away the long, bright hours 
Under the shade of leafy bowers. 

96 



BLOSSOMS AND BIRDS 

Blossoms and birds ! blossoms and birds ! 

There never were two sweeter words ; 

You may keep the city and lead me back 

Through country lanes, over highway track, 

Till I find a place under deep blue skies. 

Where the grass is green and the swallow flies 

In and out among the rustling leaves 

And builds her nest 'neath the sheltering eaves, 

Or wheels her flight through the upper air 

To bathe her wing in the sun's broad glare. 

Blossoms and birds ! blossoms and birds ! 
There's a soulful meaning in these few words, 
There's a sound of music, a rhythmic swell. 
Like the soothing notes of some silvery bell, 
As we wander out among the trees 
And list to the drowsy hum of bees. 
We forget all else until it seems 
We float away in the land of dreams ; 
Our souls are thrilled, our senses stirred. 
By the scent of blossom, the song of bird. 



97 



A WISE BIRD 

The crows held a meeting one summer's morn 
In grandpa's field to dig for corn, 
And one old crow with a shining pate, 
Just a wee bit blacker than any mate, 
Said, "Come, my friends, let us begin 
To dig for corn, 'tis sure no sin." 

But in looking down the tempting row 
He spied the farmer's old scare-crow, 
And the wise old bird just flapped his wings 
And cried, "Do you see that funny thing?" 
And twisted his neck and laughed "ha ! ha !" 
And every crow replied, "Caw ! caw !" 

Grandpa rummaged the garret through 

And found the old umbrella blue, 

And smiled and said, "I think to-day 

I've got 'em fixed sure, anyway ;" 

But the wise old bird, when the day got hot, 

Discovered this nice, cool, shady spot. 

And said, "What a nice little tent the farmer's made. 

While the rest of you work I'll sit in the shade." 



98 



BLACKBERRY BLOSSOMS 

O modest bloom without perfume, 

Your petals are as fair 
As though they shed a fragrance sweet 

Upon the balmy air. 

Here swallows twitter blithe and gay 
The long bright summer through, 

The robin sings her matin song 
And builds her nest anew. 

Thou sittest enthroned in regal state. 

Thy mace a thorny wand, 
And liftest up thy pure sweet face. 

Fair queen of summer land. 

Above thee wave fruit-laden boughs 

The fragrant amber skies 
Bend down to thee their smiling lips 

And warm thee with their eyes. 

Slow was thy coming, but thy sloth 

Gave pledge of fruitage deep ; 
Naught save summer sun and shower 

Could wake thee from thy sleep. 

99 

L.ofC. 



BLACKBERRY BLOSSOMS 

Soon will thy petals drifting down 
Fall on thy Mother Earth, 

Deck for a day with snowy crown 
The one who gave thee birth. 

But in thy stead, with blushing face, 
Whilst happy voices chime, 

The ripened fruit will come at last 
To crown the harvest time. 



100 



MORNING GLORIES 

Sweet flowers, ye lift your shining faces 

At early morn to greet the sun, 
Your dewy eyes and tender graces 

His brightest smiles ofttimes have won ; 
Like virgin queens within your emerald bow'r. 

Adorned with glittering jewels rare, 
Ye while away the long, bright summer hour, 

A sisterhood of blossoms fair. 

The butterfly oft stops in wandering 

To kiss thy blushing lips ; 
The wild bee pauses in meandering, 

And from thy cup of nectar sips ; 
The humming-bird, arrayed in brightest plumage. 

With keen, bright eye beholds thy charms. 
Stops for a time to pay thee homage. 

And rests him in thy clinging arms. 

Upturned to heaven thy smiling countenance 
Seems pleading for the Father's smile, 

Thy mute lips appeal to our emotions 
And voice a prayer that has no guile. 

Ye are not dumb, O flowers, ye teach a lesson 
Of faith sublime and constant prayer. 

Each clinging vine, each shining blossom 

Displays the Father's wondrous care. 

lOI 



THE BIRDS 

A jay-bird sat on a cherry tree 

And rung his silvery bell, 
The cat-bird cried, "Hear me ! hear me ! 

For I've something sweet to tell. 

"You see that tall old apple tree 
By the side of the garden gate, 
Where I sit and watch the honey bee 
And sing to my loving mate 

"As she sits all day in her leafy nest, 
Beyond the reach of harm, 
And shelters beneath her downy breast 
Her treasures safe and warm ?" 

A robin sat in an elm near by 

And chirped, "I bring, I bring 
Glad tidings to all who hear my cry ; 

I tell of the coming spring." 

A blue-bird twittered, "Ah well ! ah well ! 

How little that robin knows. 
For I am the first little bird to tell 

Of the time when the south wind blows." 

Summer came on with her robe of light, 

And the birds forgot in song 
To argue the question to which the right 

Of praise and honors belong. 

102 



LOVE AND THE FLOWERS 

Love walked among the flowers 

One warm, bright summer day, 
And sought the leafy bowers, 

Like a happy child at play ; 
He found a blooming rose 

Clothed in garments rare. 
And pressed a kiss upon her lips 

That made them seem more fair. 

He found the fragile lily pale 

Upon her stalk of green, 
Dressed in her robes of spotless white, 

Adorned like a virgin queen ; 
He pressed his lips to her snowy cheek, 

Like a flame of golden fire. 
And the heart of the lily woke 

And glowed with new desire. 

A lover bold, he wooed and won 

Bright flowers of every hue, 
And held them close in his embrace 

The long bright summer through ; 
But soon the autumn time came on, 

With its cruel, icy breath. 
And the flowers, once so bright and fair, 

Became the Bride of Death. 
103 



JUNE 

O ! fairest month of all the year, 
When fields are green and skies are clear, 
And flowers fair of every hue 
Look up to greet yon sky of blue, 
And glad birds twitter all the day, 
Whilst nature chants her grandest lay, 

I lay me on a couch of pain 
And see the summer sunshine warm, again 
Fall on the fields with golden light 
And touch the harvest growing white, 
Whilst clover blooms all white and red, 
Upon the air their fragrance shed. 

Across the furrowed fields each day 
The sturdy ploughman wends his way, 
And sees with pride each dewy morn 
His toil repaid in growing corn. 
And smiles o'er toil as days speed by 
Beneath the calm of June's soft sky. 



104 



DOWN WHERE THE LILIES GROW 

Down where the liHes grow 

And lift their shining heads, 
Down where the waters flow 

Along their mossy beds ; 
Down where the wild birds sing 

And where the sunsets glow, 
There's where I wandered 

In the sweet Long Ago. 

There's where I loved to play 

In childhood's early morn, 
There's where I used to stray 

When brighter hopes were born ; 
There where sweet Annie Lee 

Was ever by my side, 
There's where I wooed and won 

My darling bonnie bride. 

Down where the lilies grow 
And bend each drooping head, 

Down where the violets bloom 
And sweetest fragrance shed ; 

105 



DOWN WHERE THE LILIES GROW 

Down where the lihes grow, 
Deep in that shady dell, 

There's where sweet Annie Lee 
Bade me a last farewell. 

CHORUS 

Down where the lilies grow, 
Down where the lilies grow, 
Down where the lilies grow 

And lift their shining heads ; 
Down where the lilies grow, 
Down where the lilies grow 

And bend their drooping heads. 



1 06 



IVY AND MYRTLE 



MAURICE THOMPSON 

What shall we say of him who sleeps to-day ? 

His pen is idle and his harp unstrung — 
How tell his worth or sing a fitting lay 

To honor him whose praise has oft been sung 
By countless throngs, whose every heart 

Is filled with grief and troubled sore? 
In quiet homes they weep, and in the busy mart, 

For him they loved, the friend who is no more. 

Farewell, O gifted bard ! O poet-friend ! 

Thy voice is heard no more in Sherwood's halls, 
Where loved ones weep, and with their sorrow blend 

The voice of those who weep without her walls ; 
For we who never met thee face to face, 

Nor felt the kindly pressure of thy hand, 
Have learned the truths thy magic pen could trace 

And leave a lasting impress on Life's sand. 

Our sky with darkest clouds is overcast, 
A shadow falls on Life's meridian sun, 

Life's fitful dream is over and the day is past, 
For thee the race is ended and the goal is won ; 
109 



MAURICE THOMPSON 

For thou hast reached that inimitable sphere, 
Far, far beyond the grosser things of earth. 

Through those deep waters none but angels steer 
And find the land of the mysterious birth. 

Farewell ! farewell ! thy feet no more will tread 

The old familiar paths 'neath southern sky ; 
Where north winds rave is found thine honored bed. 

Where friend and foe alike in peace may lie. 
Here rests the mortal part, but thy great soul 

Hast reached a height where thought and soul ex- 
pand. 
And while the countless ages roll 

Shalt feel the guidance of the Mighty Hand. 



no 




CARRIE. 



MEMORIAM 

DEDICATED TO MRS. MATTIE ROBERTS 

Dear baby with eyes of blue 

And curls of golden hair, 
Our home is lonely without you, 

But Heaven is more fair. 

Four short years to us He gave thee 

To fill our hearts with love. 
Then back to His dear presence called thee 

To the bright home above. 

Our days are lonely, dear, 

Our nights are full of pain. 
But angels whisper this sweet message, 

"We shall see our babe again." 

The same sweet baby face? 

Yes, the same, but fairer. 
Nurtured in heaven's atmosphere. 

Where all things grow rarer 

Than here on earth, where sin 

Falls like the blighting frost 
On fairest bud and sweetest flower. 

And then we call them lost. 
Ill 



MEMORIAM 

But thou art safe at last 

Where pain nor sorrows come; 
No sin can mar thy perfect Hfe 

In the eternal home. 

We lay thee down to sleep 

Among the quiet dead, 
Where the lilies in God's Acre bloom 

And their sweet fragrance shed. 

And as we walk life's way 
We'll feel thy presence near, 

A gentle spirit from the home above 
Our lonely hearts to cheer. 

Dear Lord, we bless Thy name 
And kiss the chastening rod ; 

Chastened, but reconciled, we bow 
Unto the will of God. 



112 



DWIGHT L. MOODY 

He sleeps to-day among the snow-capped hills, 
Near where the mighty billows dash and roar, 

Unmindful of the hearts that sorrow fills, 

Nor heeds the cry that sounds from shore to shore. 

A nation mourns her well beloved son. 

And sister nations, weeping, clasp her hands ; 

They weep for one whose earthly course is run, 
One common grief uniteth many lands. 

Reared on New England's stormy rock-bound coast. 
Where white-robed freedom, too, had birth. 

From where the Pilgrim Fathers kept their post, 
His fame has reached to all the earth. 

God called, and Moody answered, "Here am I, 
Wher'er Thou biddest me I'll gladly go. 

"Know ye the Lord !" shall be my daily cry ; 
Thy Word Fll preach to high and low. 

"Nor time alone is all Fll give to Thee : 
All Thou gavest me, dear Lord, is Thine. 

Accept this offering. Lord, as due from me ; 
Thine all the praise shall be, the debt is mine." 

"3 



DWIGHT L. MOODY 

As one of old, with tongue and lip aflame, 
With heart of faith and consecrated love. 

With fiery zeal, he spake the Master's name. 
With mighty power men's hearts to move. 

Whilst others stood in lofty pillared fane 
And fed their flocks already gathered in, 

This man went out in narrow court and lane 
And in the vilest haunt of shame and sin. 

And found the needy ones bereft of care, 
For whom Christ bade His followers seek ; 

And through the aid of tender, earnest prayer, 
Helped those to better lives who once were weak. 

And not alone upon his native soil. 

To loving friends and kindred all his own, 

Not here was given all this hero's toil. 

In the fair land he proudly called his home; 

But on the deep blue sea his voice was heard 
In praise to Him who ever rules the storm, 

And like the notes of some free singing bird, 

His songs of praise welled from a fountain warm. 

And when he stood upon a foreign shore, 

A stranger in a stranger's land, 
With heart of love, he preached to rich and poor, 
In Christian love he grasped each proffered hand. 
114 



DWIGHT L. MOODY 

And when at last, with weary steps, he came 
Again to those dear ones who once were sad, 

A multitude arose with loud acclaim, 

A cry of joy went up from hearts made glad. 

And now he sleeps among the snow-crowned hills, 
Near where was reared his father's cot. 

Unmindful of the hearts that sorrow fills 
And tears that fall above that sacred spot. 

God called again, and Moody answered, "Here." 
"Thy work is finished," saith the Lord ; "lay down 

Thy burden, faithful one, and never fear; 
The victory's won, accept the crown." 

He sleeps, but he will wake to life again 

On the glorious Resurrection Day, 
When all the souls of just and perfect men 

Shall meet the Lord, to dwell with him alway. 



115 



MEMORIAL OF LEVI MARTIN 

O God, our hearts are torn and anguished, 
Our souls are filled with grief 

For one who long in sickness languished, 
To whom Death gave relief. 

Long had he trod Life's rugged pathway 
^Neath winter's cold and storm, 

Oft had he found Life's pleasant May-day 
And basked in sunlight warm. 

His was a life that few dared question, 

A cause to emulate. 
Full of good deeds that all might mention 

And strive to imitate. 

His heart and hand were ever ready 

To aid the suffering poor ; 
No wretched outcast, vile and needy, 

Uncared for left his door. 

His life was pure, yet claimed he weakness, 

And failings all his own ; 
In humbleness he sought no greatness. 

But sought to live unknown. 
ii6 • 



MEMORIAL OF LEVI MARTIN 

And thus he Hved beyond his three-score years, 

The hmit of Life's span ; 
Cahn and serene, with naught of fears, 

A true God-fearing man. 

We who loved him as a trusted friend, 

From childhood until now. 
Wept when we saw Pain's hand descend 

Upon his aged brow. 

Those dear ones who knew and loved him most, 

And by his love were blest. 
Have known what pain and sorrow cost 

To lay their loved to rest. 

At rest ! He knows no pain, no sorrow, 

Nor feels the weight of care ; 
No clouds bedim his bright to-morrow 

Within that City fair. 

There shall we meet the dear departed, 

Where Life, not Death, is born ; 
Clasp hands again with our true-hearted 

On the Resurrection Morn. 



117 



ENGLAND'S QUEEN 

England's Queen is slowly dying, 
And the Nation weeps to-day ; 

On a royal couch she's lying, 
Wan and feeble, old and gray. 

What to her is princely homage 
And the scepter's rule and might? 

What to her are courtly honors 
And the gleam of jewels bright? 

England's Queen is dead, and sorrow 
Stirs the nation's mighty heart ; 

From that nation on to-morrow 
Power and rule shall both depart. 

Four-score years the world had known her, 
Three-score years she wore a crown ; 

Death, the Monarch, has relieved her. 
Bade her lay the scepter down. 

Laid his icy hand upon her, 

Placed a seal upon her brow. 
-Deaf to worldly praise and honor 

Rests the Queen of England now. 
ii8 



ENGLAND S QUEEN 

She, who filled the highest station 
Gift of man could e'er bestow, 

Ruled with gentle hand the nation 
Despot's rule would overthrow. 

Born and reared within a palace, 

And her heritage a throne, 
Whilst her vast and rich possessions 

Stretched away from zone to zone. 

Queen of home as well as nation — 
Filled a wife and mother's sphere ; 

True to every home relation ; 

Loved by friends and kindred dear. 

England's Queen is dead, and England's 
Power is lost throughout the world ; 

Never more o'er conquered nations 
Shall her banner wave unfurled. 



119 



FRANCES E. WILLARD 

Thrice have the seasons come and gone, 
And soon the Spring will bloom again, 

Since thou didst lay Life's burden down 
And find surcease from toil and pain. 

Thine was a heart that knew no hate. 
Save hatred for that awful foe 

That curses man in his estate, 

And brings his pride and manhood low. 

Nor is this all ; it blights the lives 
Of those they love, and casts a pall 

Of grief upon the hearts of wives ; 
And loving mothers vainly call 

On those who hold the might in hand, 
To stay the tide of bitter grief 

That devastates their homes and land, 
And give their aching hearts relief. 

But thou, our fair-haired sister, frail 
Of arm, but strong of mind and heart. 

Gave thy pure life with rich avail. 
And strength to feebler ones impart. 
1 20 



FRANCES E. WILLARD 

Thou didst not heed the law of yore 
That placed a ban on woman's sphere ; 

Thou didst ''enter every open door," 
With trusting heart and vision clear. 

Within thy heart Ambition's fire 

Upon a sacred altar burned, 
Fed by the oil of pure desire 

Thy consecrated zeal had earned. 

Love came to thee with outstretched hand 
And offered gifts to thy young heart, 

But thou hadst sought to understand 
What seemed to thee a better part. 

Thou sawst with uplifted eye 

The whitened fields of golden grain ; 

The idle reapers standing by, 

With fainting hearts that wait in vain. 

For that glad day, the promised time, 
When new-born man of holier birth 

No longer yields to sin and crime ; 

When Righteousness shall rule the earth. 

But thou, brave-hearted, without fear, 
Went forth to meet a foe of might ; 

To plead a cause to homes most dear, 

And win men's hearts for Truth and Right. 

121 



FRANCES E. WILLARD 

From out the depths of thy clear eye 
Shone forth thy soul like jewel rare; 

No evil thoughts could one descry 
Upon thy brow so pure and fair. 

Around the standard raised by thee 
Has gathered truest womanhood ; 

In other lands beyond the sea, 
They dwell a loyal sisterhood. 

A score of years thy gentle hand 

Led on these workers true and brave, 

Who sought to free their homes and land 
And liberate the Rum King's slave. 

And when thy work at last was done 
Thine eyes were closed without a fear ; 

From out the West the setting sun 
A halo shed upon thy bier. 

In southern climes, where north winds rave, 
A million hearts were stricken sore ; 

A cry of grief, a mighty wave 

Of sorrow swept from shore to shore. 

The Lord has only called His own ; 

Thy feet on Zion's hills have trod ; 
For thou hast learned to feel and know 

"How beautiful to be with God." 

122 



ESTHER BARRINGER 

Bring flowers fair of every hue, 
And over sweet Esther's piUow strew ; 
There is none so fair as the sleeping face, 
With its pure white brow and childish grace ; 

As the folded hands so cold and still, 
That never more will the pulses thrill 
Of those who loved her and tried to cheer 
The suffering one, to them so dear. 

Or the soft brown eyes, so wondrous fair ; 
And the gleaming tresses of golden hair, 
No longer pillowed on mother's breast ; 
The fairest and sweetest has gone to rest. 

Tenderly lay her down to sleep ; 
Angels will guard her slumber deep. 
Above her let no sad tear fall ; 
She has only answered the Savior's call. 

"The cage is empty, the bird has flown," 
To join its mates around the Throne ; 
To dwell in a land with beauty rife. 
And sing sweet songs from the Tree of Life. 
123 



ESTHER BARRINGER 

To pluck ripe fruit from its waving bough 
And wear a crown on her angel brow ; 
To walk the streets all paved with gold, 
And live in a land where none grow old. 

Her pain is over ; the little feet 

That were tired here now walk the street 

Of a city fair, by angels trod ; 

She is safe at last in the House of God. 



124 



^c 26 1901 



DEC 23 1901 



s^jsss LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ^ 

K II II III I iiiin iiiniiini I III 9 



iililllnllilllllllllillllllllliillllllllllliiiil 



020 994 553 8 



